


A Different Point of View

by MsLanna



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Beach Divorce Fix It, Bodyswap, M/M, Power Swap, movie!canon AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-06
Updated: 2011-12-06
Packaged: 2017-10-27 00:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/289561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsLanna/pseuds/MsLanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the morning of the Cuba Crisis, things are little different from how they should be. Erik and Charles have no time to set things right before they need to ship out and fight. But will this work?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Different Point of View

A Different Point of View

 

Silence awoke him. A thick silence as if his ears had been plugged or all noise removed from the world. Slowly, Charles Xavier opened his eyes. And found himself in a room not his. This would have worried him more, had he not recognised it as a room in his house, which suddenly did worry him as he clearly remembered assigning it to Erik Lensherr.

He jerked upright, realising that contrary to habit he seemed to have forgone pyjamas. When he put his hand to his head and looked around, he realised two things. Firstly, he was alone in Erik's room which was probably good news. And secondly that his head felt strange. Not headache-strange or hangover-strange. But strange-strange. And that was not only due to the silence in it.

A scream echoing through the mansion jolted him into action. In the last moment he did remember to put on _some_ thing, for which worn sweatpants of the mysteriously missing Mr. Lensherr had to make do. Charles sprinted through the hallway desperately trying to find out what happened. He could not hear anybody think. He could not - he came to a sudden stop that coincided with arriving at his own door.

Somehow, he was also sitting in his bed screaming and clawing at his head.

"Erik-"

 _What did you do to me?_

The question hit him like a kick in the head and his legs folded under him. Steadying himself on the floor with his other hand, he found himself staring at himself. How could this be, and why couldn't he hear anybody in the room?

"Erik?" Raven looked down at him with concern in her eyes. "Are you okay?"

Erik? Charles looked at himself staring at his crouching figure from the bed, wearing the pyjamas he did remember putting on. Then he ventured to take a look at his hand on the floor. Not his hand. He looked up at the man in his bed. "Oh no."

"What is it Erik?"

"I think you better leave," Charles managed to get out. "He probably needs-" to be alone would have been correct, but not helpful.

He didn't have to finish the sentence though. Raven pounced on the opportunity to _do_ something and started ushering the others out. Getting up, Charles slowly made his way to the bedside. He had imagined out-of-body experiences to be less inside a body. "I didn't do anything," he murmured at what had to be Erik in a similar out-of-body inside a body experience. "Close your eyes and think outer space."

He wondered if he really looked that much like a puppy even if he was reproachfully skeptic. But Erik did as he had suggested and his leaning back with his eyes closed seemed to calm Raven enough to make her leave the room as well.

"Can you shield? Somehow? Anyhow?"

It was difficult to look into his own eyes and still he was unable to look away. Did he glare like that? This was bad.

"Do I look like somebody who can shield?" Erik hissed. "Do I _sound_ like somebody who can shield?"

Charles sighed and realised that there was not as much hair to run his hand through as he was used to. "Sorry. I just. Gah!" He did remember, if unwillingly, how life was when you did not shield.

"I don't think 'gah' quite captures the severity of the situation," Erik ground out.

"No. No, you're right." Charles looked around trying to find a less awkward option. A look at his own drawn face spurred him into immediate action though.

"Stop shouting," Erik complained immediately as Charles took his hand and sat down next to him.

"I am not shouting," Charles explained. "I am just drowning out everybody else. You want their voices back? No problem." He wondered why he was so snappish. Was personality linked to the body? He was ready to rake his hand through his hair again, only that he was actually still holding Erik's.

"It better not," Erik replied. "I can't stand your starry-eyed idealism."

"Well, thank you. Your stone-cold detachment is not helping any either, my friend."

Erik winced automatically at seeing himself calling himself a friend. It did not feel that creepy when Charles did that. The two men glared at each other, feeling slightly odd as they were holding hands at the same time. Erik was not quite sure which thoughts were his own and that was creeping him out even more.

"You need to shield and fast," Charles told him.

"True," the brand-new telepath replied. "We cannot go into battle holding hands."

Seeing the almost disappointed look on his own face was too much. He was spared the sight a split second later, when Charles hit a palm to his temple with an expression of pain. "Don't do that," he said. "It hurts."

"I didn't do anything."

"You didn't want to hear my thoughts but instead of just blocking them", Charles took a deep breath as if a sudden migraine attack relented, "you went for them in my head."

"How can that be painful?"

"Imagine it to feel like a kick in the stomach, only in your head," Charles grinned lopsidedly. "And it's okay, you're pretty new to these head games."

"So I'm in your head now?" Erik wanted to know.

"Not really. I'm broadcasting." There was an uncomprehending look on his own face that was endearing in a naive way. "Everybody does it all the time," Charles explained. "That's why you need those shields. So you don't get drowned out in the constant chatter."

"I do that?" His tone showed that Erik was unhappy with the idea.

Erik decided that he did not do uncomfortable well. He was getting used to seeing his own reactions, though they were actually Charles' only using his face.

"For somebody who's not a telepath, you keep your thoughts to yourself quite well," Charles admitted with eyes downcast in a very un-Erik-like manner. "Except for rage."

Now that was at least something, Erik decided. And it might explain why Charles seemed more at ease around him. He was not sue if that was good or bad, or why that reason should be a disappointment because he did not spell out the alternative. And when it did start to creep up on him he reacted immediately. "Am I broadcasting as you, too?"

"Not that I can hear," Charles replied. "But I am not telepathic any more." He wondered if he did really look that panicky when anxious or, if not, what had alarmed Erik so much.

"We need to sort this out fast. It's not as if we can postpone the fight." Erik put a hand to his head, which reminded Charles uncomfortably of his reasons to do that. It looked unsettling from outside.

But Erik was right, they could not postpone the battle. They needed a solution. Now. "You could look into my mind," Charles suggested, "while I broadcast the techniques for shielding."

"I can do that?"

"Of course." Charles chuckled and Erik considered doing that more often when he was back in his own body because it did sound kinda nice.

"How?" Seeing himself putting his fingers to his temple in Charles gesture was not calming Erik any. He tried to hear what Charles was sending, but there was nothing but a general murmur of voices.

"Ouch. Ouch! Stop that!" Charles pinched Erik in the arm in a spot he knew from experience (usually Raven) that hurt especially bad.

"Hey, what?" Erik rubbed his arm and looked hurt. Charles thought it suited him rather well. He really had that helplessness down pat.

"You don't have to dig into my head like that. It hurts."

"Sorry. But where are those thoughts you're sending? I hear nothing."

"Because it's not really _hearing_ hearing," Charles said. He tried to think of way to visualise the complicated process that was directed - and painless - telepathy. "Let's try this."

Thinking hard of telepathy and nothing else, Charles put his forehead against Erik's temple. His own temple if he thought about it, which he didn't because he was thinking only about telepathy right now. _Only_ telepathy.

Erik got the idea almost immediately, and this time his probing was not painful though still very tangible. "You do that all the time?"

Charles was not sure if he heard that with his ears or directly in his head. "I have to." He imagines increasing his mental reach, engulfing the whole mansion and all inhabitants. The grip on his hand tightened painfully.

 _I think somebody is coming._

Erik reached out to lock the door and Charles considered the puzzlement on his own face cute, even if seeing himself using Erik's trademark gesture was disturbing. But suddenly he knew - _knew_ \- how to lock the door. Pointing his index finger, Charles clicked the lock into place. It was strange to feel the metal almost as if it was a part of him. It as also an easy manipulation as no other sentient beings were involved. He let out a low chuckle.

"At least one of us is having fun," Erik rumbled. Or tried to. He had to realise that rumbling did not work well with Charles' voice.

"Sorry." Charles returned his head to rest his forehead against Erik's temple again because, really, how did they look sitting here cheek to cheek? He was also not sure which cheek was actually his, not mentioning stubble. It scratched. "But you're very good, already noticing her."

"I am not sure that was me," Erik replied.

They looked at each other. "That is bad," Charles murmured. "That, my friend, is very bad."

"We seem to work well enough together." Erik shrugged. "Might just work."

"You want to fight this battle being permanently attached to my head?" Charles found that incredulity and refusal sounded a lot more credible with Erik's voice.

"Do you have a better idea?"

Charles had to admit that he didn't. And there was still the hand-holding problem. "We need to tell Raven. She'll inform the others." He raised his hand again and unlocked the door. It was so easy, beautifully easy.

Raven was already standing in the frame, observing the two men warily as she stepped inside.

"We have a problem," Erik told her. It was funny how she thought of him as her brother, and confusing to have all those conflicting emotions directed at him. Broadcasting seemed to be a problem indeed.

"Does it have anything to do with -"

"No!" Erik's shout answer almost made Charles jump off the bed with surprise.

"Raven, dear, please think carefully as long as Erik is in my body." Aforementioned Erik glared at Charles who looked like Erik, and being caught up behind Charles' face made the glare a lot less impressive.

Charles suppressed another chuckle very badly. Raven looked at what seemed to be a giggling Erik, trying to wrap her head around his words. "You what?" She finally said.

"What he said," Erik in Charles' guise said. "I'm him, he's me. Powers and all."

"You realise that this is a problem," Charles-looking-like-Erik added. "We don't have time to control this properly. But we do have to find a way to make it work somehow."

Raven looked from one man to the other, then down to their clasped hands.

"Shielding." Erik explained hastily.

Maybe a little to hastily, Charles thought and then stopped thinking very fast because it was quite possible that Erik was in his head.

 _No kidding._

"Oh, great," he muttered. Tentatively he let his hand go.

"Charles?" Erik questioned, before putting both hands to his head. "What-?"

"Shield, Erik!" He had to clamp down hard on the urge to put his hands on his friends shoulders. "What did I show you?"

Erik looked up through very blue and pained and desperate Charles' eyes. Which led to Charles forgetting about his resolution. How the hell did he manage to look like a beat puppy like that? Taking the hands Erik was currently controlling, he put them as his temples. "Remember," he urged. "Shield. It's not that difficult."

"I can see where the two of you need a moment," Raven said shaking her head. "I'll tell the others and get them ready."

"Thank you, Raven," Charles called over his shoulder. "Come on." He turned to Erik again who did not look quite as pained as before. "It is not that difficult!" He leant his forehead against Erik's surprised at how feverish it felt. This was so not good.

Suddenly there is Charles everywhere. Erik would be angry about that if Charles had not been thinking in very clearly structured thoughts along the lines of 'do this, do that'. Shards of Charles learning to shield flash up behind the univocal instructions, but are gone too fast for Erik to catch but glimpses of damped down emotion. None of it is very pleasant, though.

And then he was back sitting in Charles bed, leaning against his own forehead and Charles looked at him through his own eyes. Slowly he leant back. Charles let go of his hands. Blinking several times, the deluge of noises did not crash back into him. Erik looked around as if he could see the ocean of minds that were creating a constant roar at the back of his head.

"Does it stay like this forever?" He wanted to know.

Charles shrugged. "I can block them out completely by now, but whenever you relax the focus, they return."

Erik wondered how Charles managed to sleep. Ever. He also banned the idea of broadcasting and drowning out other voices from his head quickly. "How well do you handle my power?"

Charles looked around for something made from metal. After some experimenting they decided that he would get by if he didn't have to do precision work. "And there just may be the chance that we can hold each other's hand during some of the fighting." The shark-like grin Charles showed with Erik's face did not go well with those words.

"You do realise that it will look ridiculous?" Erik wanted to know.

"Right, right." Charles gave in. "We'll talk to Hank."

 

~*~*~*~

 

 

Talking to Hank turned out to be difficult. The scientist was nowhere to be seen. His laboratory was ravaged and a crude note was pinned to its door, telling them to bring the crate marked with an x. Charles wondered if anybody noticed how he tried to keep everybody off Erik's back. Possibly not, because the notion that they were not who they looked like was more difficult to keep up than he had expected.

"We could just play along," Erik said so very softly that Charles might not have heard him, except for the fact that he was also in his head. They were sitting close to each other on the backseat while Raven drove. Neither of them protesting her protective behaviour. Life was currently difficult enough.

Physical proximity helped Erik focus and relax, so this would be the weapon of choice until they could talk to Hank. Though Charles had no idea what he could do in the time they had.

 _Because we don't have any._ Erik chimed into his thoughts.

Charles looked at his friend, who made his features look all drawn and taut. Since neither leaning his head against Erik's should nor taking his hand was an option, Charles resigned himself to moving his leg closer to his.

Erik looked from their touching knees to Charles radiating concern with Erik's features. Closing his eyes, he leant back and put his index finger against his temple as he had seen Charles do so often. _This is ridiculous._

Charles had to agree. Not only because physical contact seemed to have a calming effect on him as well. _Though there is a certain uncertainty as to which body is his, or at least the one he controls or emanating heat beside him like a small supernova._ He passes the time until they reached the airbase with thinking very structured thoughts about the upcoming battle.

Hank was not in the hangar. Erik and Charles looked at each other, the last slice of time for working on their current state slipping away between them.

"Where's Hank?" Raven finally voiced the question on everybody's mind.

"I'm here." Hank's voice sounded rough as he appeared on the other side of the hangar. Charles didn't believe his eyes when the young man came into sight. Though "man" was not the right description anymore. Blue fur covered a hulky frame and the glasses on the flat nose looked very out of place. He also seemed to broadcast strongly. Either that, or Charles was getting sudden migraine attacks that had nothing to do with Erik trying to keep a grip on his thoughts.

Charles was so busy thinking straight thoughts that Raven's appreciative tone surprised him, when she told Hank that his serum had worked indeed. Then he remembered his own role. "You never looked better, man." He clapped Hank on the shoulder. That was a mistake.

Hank's arm shot out, grabbing his throat with a snarl.

"Hank." Erik called, but the young man did not listen.

"Do not mock me," he growled slowly.

"Hank, put him down immediately, please!" Erik shouted. "Hank. Hank!" It was such a nuisance that the usual glare had absolutely no effect coming from Charles' face. How did he manage to get through life?

Fortunately, Hank let go before Erik could consider trying one of Charles' mind tricks. The former telepath lay on the ground rubbing his throat. "I wasn't," he ground out. Erik was not sure if the roughness in his tone was from being throttled or normal. The things you never realised when you were stuck inside yourself.

He made sure to pick a seat next to Charles in the plane. Hank looked appropriately contrite about his outburst, when Raven explained the Erik Xavier/Charles Lensherr problem to him. There might even have been a growled apology, but Erik's head was too full of Charles thinking with less than anticipation about what lay before them.

"It'll be alright." He patted Charles' knee. "We'll find Shaw, kill him, stop the missiles." From the ranking of the mission objectives alone it was more than obvious that this was not Charles talking.

Charles, looking like an unhappy Erik, shook his head. He could not disagree though, as his head was suddenly full of angry Erik and memories of his childhood. It was difficult to argue with that.

The sea was deceptively calm, the opposing ships lying on the water very still. Only one of them was moving, almost like in slow motion, approaching an invisible line on the water. The tension was palpable even above the scene. Erik felt it tug on his vulnerable shields, thousands of stressed minds straining against his barrier like fingers digging into a half-inflated balloon.

He could make out Hanks concentrated dart of a mind, bent on flying, Raven's almost giddy anticipation. He pulled back towards Charles, who was an easier anchor than his own head somehow. _I'm not alone._

"Looks pretty messy out there," Hank called over his shoulder as the plane reached the ships facing each other. Erik looked at Charles, then put his index and middle fingers to his temple with a question in his eyes. Charles nodded, put a hand on Erik's leg, or his own, depending on definition, and broadcasted like hell.

Suddenly Erik's hand crashed down over his, only that it was actually his own hand and really, had he no calluses at all? Charles retired into his own head as well as he could, not being a telepath at all anymore.

"The crew of the _Aral Sea_ are all dead," Erik said. He did not look happy about his accomplishment, and Charles felt another headache creeping up on him.

"He set the ship on course of the embargo line," Erik went on. His agitation translated directly into migraine for Charles. Somehow he was not sure how he would react to his saying 'calm your mind' now.

"That ship crosses the line, our boys are going to blow it up and the war begins," Moira said.

Charles looked at Erik, who got the idea immediately. "Unless they’re _not_ our boys." He focussed on Charles, who had the plan straightened out in his mind already. Only that neither of them actually knew how to go about it, because they had not done anything like this before. Not even in their own bodies.

 _Do it._

Charles was sure it was his thought. Still he saw his own face, drawn with concentration, inhale deeply and Erik closed his eyes. _Only that he is Erik, but he is also Charles looking at Erik looking like Charles thinking towards the ships below, finding them, but no, not these, not these, find the minds in Russian, everything engulfed in metal, so much metal, so easy to manipulate and there, and there, too, minds full of thoughts in Russian; which one, any one, that one, and three pairs of eyes open to see a triplicate of the bridge of the Russian ship._

Charles thinks that the poor man will have a really bad headache when this is over, but there are things more important. There is the switch for the missile release. _Are you ready? As ready as I will be. And the aged hand not belonging to either of them punches the red button down._

"Got it," Erik said softly.

"Got it," Charles replied promptly. Though not sure how fast his grip on the missile was, he found it almost easy to guide it toward the cargo ship. _No, not that one, the other one, the moving one, Erik is in his head, though he is Charles, keeping up a flickering connection with what he knows to be his powers. Don't do that. Don't do that,don'tdothat. That was the voice of Charles hovering over his consciousness, blanketing out everything else. Just guide me._

 _Got it._ They are, after all two people, and Erik watches as Charles guides the missile following the images Erik remembers. It is not perfect, but it _is_ working.

"That was inspired, Charles." Moira's voice broke them into separate entities again, staring at each other from foreign eyes. The smile Charles started on Erik's face was quickly overtaken by another headache. Erik still had his fingers on his temple.

"I still can't locate Shaw," his tone was frustrated. "Hank, is there anything unusual on the water?"

"Nothing," he called back. "He must be under water. And we don't have sonar."

Charles could feel the frustration as if it was his own. He knew those memories since their first encounter. Erik had not shielded his anger well at all. He still didn't.

"Yes, we do," Sean said into the taut silence.

"Yes we do," Erik repeated as he got up together with Charles and followed Sean to the back of the plane.

"Whoa, you back right off," Sean told Charles, because he still looked like Erik. If the concept of switched personalities had been hard to keep in mind under normal circumstances, battle stress did not help it any, either. Charles backed off, with his hands in the air, grinning.

Erik stood next to Sean as the cargo hatch opened. The ocean raced by below them. This was the moment where Charles would hold one of his inspiring speeches, Erik realised. He was just a little short of encouraging words to say with his whole head abuzz with thoughts not his. The shielding had to be cracking with Charles only a few feet away, half his mind was babbling in Russian.

Charles, who was grinning at him looking like a maniac Erik hadn't known he could look like. He stared at himself, only that it was Charles he could hear his voice in the roar around him, and the words were skimming over the crests of sound sloshing against him.

"Remember this is a muscle." Erik repeated Charles' words with Charles' voice. "You control it.

You be in here the entire time." Charles looking like Erik stood on the other side of the bay, staring intently at Erik delivering his speech. "We'll see you soon," Erik finished. "On my mark: three, two one: go!"

Sean dropped out of the bay and turned into Banshee as he fell towards the water screaming. He bounced himself off the surface before diving into the blue deep. Erik returned to stand close beside Charles. As their shoulders touched, the world became a quieter place.

"Don't shut out Banshee," Charles warned. Reluctantly Erik stepped away again a little. One hand at his temple, listening for Banshee in a way that was not really listening, but made sense when you grew up like Charles not sure what was inside and what was outside of your head.

Trying to keep track of Banshee was easier and more difficult than Erik had expected. Easier because half the babble in his head was Russian and/or unmoving, more difficult because it was not enough to simply know where Banshee was, but he also had to read the information from him correctly and in a way Hank could use.

He felt Charles' calming presence just out of reach. Once he got the coordinates for Shaw, he would be able to return into the bubble of relative silence surrounding him. Erik held out, the fraying edges of his conscience starting to pick up on the amount of concentration Charles put into thinking just one thing at a time. _It's difficult enough as it is, my friend._

"We've got a location on Shaw!" Finally. Erik lowered his hand and found Charles looking at him intently. There was an expression on his face that would have been encouraging had he been in his own skin. "Are you ready for this?" He didn't know if he was asking Charles or himself.

"Let's find out," Charles said. The look on his face bordered on the scary. But there was nothing else to do. He would have been more at ease with Erik doing this, but he was Erik now. There was a revenge burning inside him that made the fear of dropping insignificant. He'd have liked to tell Erik to get the hell out of his head and take that hate with him, but the couldn't.

Erik was lying on his belly on the plane's floor, his upper body sticking out from the open bay. He could almost touch Charles, almost and that had to be enough. He watched his friend sceptically, because he had never done anything like this before. He was not sure he could guide Charles through the motions well enough, even if he was right in his mind. A mind that was pushing aside all its worries - and they were many - to make it easy for Erik to find his way around without breaking anything. The idea was new and not a pleasant one. Erik did not like the idea of accidentally destroying Charles' mind. It was too beautiful for that.

Meanwhile, Charles was painting a look of determined concentration on Erik's face. His hand stretched towards the water, shaking slightly. The strain showed clearly, took over his face, cut deep ravines across his forehead. Where was _his_ point between rage and serenity? Erik dared to ask. He got no answer.

 _You can do it._

 _I can't do it alone. You're not alone. Not alone._

 _It feels like Erik is touching his shoulder though he simply cannot reach from inside the plane. But he is standing on the undercarriage reaching out and he is lying on his belly reaching out. His hand touches nothing, but he can feel it anyway: the touch of a shoulder, the touch of metal, a huge amount of metal drawn towards him slowly, very slowly._

 _He is not alone in his head, he does not know which head that currently is, it does not matter, the submarine is rising towards them, the beauty of metal gliding through water against gravity, against possibility, the metal and barbwire bending outwards, the realisation that there is an outside, the coin not moving at al - aluminium, it was made of aluminium - , knowing that the hand you put the change in has done unspeakable things only you know off because there might just not be an outside, the face of his mother across the menorah, the face of his mother morphing into Raven, the face of the other._

Exhilaration spread as the submarine broke the surface. The shark's laughter flowing free through Charles' head and a mouth probably his, pride, accomplishment, the pure joy of moving metal though water and air and moving it despite its size or weight or memories or anything. He felt the laughter not his and his own mingling.

 _Not alone._

Hank revved up the engines when he saw the submarine hovering right beside the jet and the plane raced towards the shore.

 _Got it. Gotcha. Not alone._

Still there was an unmistakable strain as he held on to the submarine. The beach came closer, but the exertion was making itself felt. But they had done it. He couldn't stop grinning.

The elation was cut short by Riptide appearing in the the hatch of the floating submarine. He stared up at them, raising his hands in a threatening gesture. Small whirlwinds were dancing on his palms. He turned his body, creating a twister around him and sending it towards the jet.

 _Take my hand!_

Charles turned and looked at Erik not sure if he actually had _heard_ the call or if he was able to resist it. Erik was all over his mind with the one urgency to get him back into the plane before the whirlwind took it apart. Charles tried to think of the submarine that was slipping from his grasp, all the trouble for nothing and the beach was so close, so close.

 _Take! My! Hand!_

It was an unmistakable order. Charles couldn't _not_ follow it. He reached out, let go of the submarine just as the plane made a violent twist. He looked at his own face drawn with effort and desperate determination not to let go. It was his resolve as well, though he was not sure where it ended and Erik's began. Or was it the other way round?

The changing angle of the jet as the whirlwind caught it had him dangling precariously from Erik's grip. And then he was inside, only he was not because he was holding on to himself still dangling but getting closer. The jet came closer, Charles came closer, his hand held on, was held and the two men acted in perfect unison to get one body into safety. Charles climbed into the bomb bay just as the plane hit the ground.

He didn't think about it. Seeing Erik on the floor of the jet that was about to roll over left only one option if he wanted to keep his friend safe. He jumped, feeling his hands and feet clinging to the metal as the jet started to turn. But casting himself over Erik like a human safety webbing had an unforeseen impact on him. His tenuous shielding folded with the sound of two minds crashing into each other unbraked.

 _And I cannot decide - who is who - here and now - we did it - safe - not alone - so much anger - pain - not alone - too many - shield - don't let go - lighting the fourth candle - eight arms - naturally - four arms? - two? - too many, too many and the things they do - shield - pain - anger and pain - pain is easier - not me - not alone_

 _If I let you save my mind - the eighth candle - the face of his father - dead - dead - the face of his mother - dead - morphing into Raven - dead - not dead - not alone - never alone - don't let go!_ Charles knew he wouldn't.

 _Or if I'll drown - what do you know about me - everything - yes everything_. Even the things he didn't know anymore. Whose thought was that? Erik couldn't tell but that didn't matter. Everything was perfectly fine, perfectly balanced and despite the fact that he was hanging overhead from the floor of a downed jet he felt perfectly safe - perfectly at peace.

 _It is an option._

The violent motions around them came to a halt. Slowly Charles lowered them to the ground. Despite the general feeling that there were too many limbs involved their mind was working perfectly. They untangled themselves, physically more than mentally, but that was alright for the moment.

"Is everybody okay?" Charles asked and got some funny looks. He shrugged as if to say it was not his problem, really, when everybody else tended to forget he did look like Erik right now. Through the windows they could see the submarine lying on the beach.

"I'm going in," Erik declared. Everybody looked at what seemed to be Charles loosing his mind.

"You're not going anywhere alone, my friend," Charles told him sternly. He felt slightly giddy with all the metal almost alive around him and wondered if it felt that way to Erik as well. Or if it was the influence of the telepathy that heightened the sense.

"You're so creepy," Raven said on her way out.

They looked at each other and shrugged in unison.

"Creepy," Havoc echoed as he followed Raven.

"I think this is when we creep out the enemy by exiting the ship hand in hand." Charles flashed Erik a toothy grin.

"You wish," Erik muttered, wondering if he always looked like a shark when grinning. He followed Charles who had stopped behind the others. They faced a row of mutants coming from the submarine, Riptide already had his palms raised.

Erik took Charles by surprise and his hand as he sprinted towards the beached submarine. He could feel its metal filtered through Charles' consciousness and still infinitely familiar. He could also feel Charles' anxiety, its focus shifting away from the mission towards hi which was comforting in an annoying way.

They raced across the sands, and Charles reached out as if it was the most normal thing in the world to rip the side of the submarine open with a gesture of his hand. It is. Because he is not alone. Because he might not have buried Riptide under the falling metal sheets. Because he was holding on to a telepath who neither knew his power nor how to control it.

Despite Charles dominating most of the thoughts reaching from the outside, Erik could feel the screaming agitation of the other mutants crashing against his mind. Still he let go of Charles' hand as they reached the sub only to find that the latter was holding on.

"Sorry," Charles shrugged. "But you can hear them even now. You don't want to know what it's like normally."

Erik nodded. Metal never clamoured. Though he wasn't sure that it had ever felt so vibrantly alive as it did through Charles' mind. He really hoped that Charles was broadcasting that.

"Where is he?" Charles asked as they advanced further into the ship.

"I can't feel him," Erik had to admit frustrated. He put his free hand against his temple.

Charles felt the next headache coming up as Erik cast his thoughts about. "The generator," he began, but Erik had already taken the rest of this thought from his mind. He concentrated his searching, zooming in on a control panel at the far end of the room. "Found it," he informed Charles unnecessarily. Pushing down the lever, he looked around the room.

"Remember," Charles tugged at his arm hard. "We're in this together. No reckless stupidities."

Erik looked at his own features on which worry and determination fought. "You know me-"

"Yes!"

The force of the answer made Erik's head swim. "And you knew why I came here."

But it wouldn't bring him peace. It wouldn't help... "Erik-"

He whirled around, feeling the warning in Charles more than hearing it in his voice. A thick safety door had opened behind him and Sebastian Shaw was standing in it, looking right past him at Charles.

"Erik, so good to see you again," Shaw said, ignoring Erik completely in favour of Charles, because powerful as he was, he was no telepath. "May I ask you something?" He came to a halt before Charles. "Why are you on their side?" He glanced at Erik, taking him for Charles. "Why fight for a doomed race who will hunt us down once they realise their reign is coming to an end?"

Charles could feel the words resonate with Erik's convictions painfully. _The humans would fight back, peace is not an option, when just now it was and Shaw, the man hunted for for so long is not a human at all, but mutant himself._ How was this all making sense? But first things first.

Erik felt Charles attempts to remove Shaw's helmet fail. Questions scuttled through him that found no answers in the tips and tricks led to nothing. But as long as the helmet remained, Erik could not even try to control Shaw. Anxiety crept into Charles and showed on the face he wore.

Erik reached for the helmet.

Shaw turned around with a look of patient disappointment on his face. Shaking his head sadly, he placed his index finger in the middle of Erik's forehead releasing some of the stored energy hurling Charles' body with Erik inside against the back of the room. Then he turned calmly back towards Charles who watched the display with Erik's eyes wide and the pain palpable through the connection.

"I am sorry for what happened in the camps," Shaw went on. "I truly am."

Charles had the overwhelming wish to be back in his own body, or at least in possession of his own powers. He felt curiously helpless, not even able to lift a simple helmet and with Shaw's apology memories laced in red-hot anger seeped through his mind from Erik. The rising agitation seemed to extend even to the metal surrounding them that felt as if inflated and tightened with every breath he made. He felt Erik get up again slowly behind Shaw, determination burning in his eyes and mind.

"But everything I did, I did for you." Shaw closed in on Charles who took a step back swamped in memories not his own. Shaw's face hovered over them all, turning the man into a monster right before his eyes, despite his own knowledge that he was just another mutant. Not his memories, not his thoughts, not his conviction. Not his anger burning inside him despite his best efforts to calm it.

Shaw put two fingers under Charles chin and though there was not a big space left between him and the wall, Charles braced for a painful impact. A wave of energy swept towards him, crashing him into the wall, holding him and another wave of anger rolled over him, more vague in its motivation, more recent and not anchored in the past but the very fact that Shaw dared do this to him.

 _It is enough how you hurt me. Don't you dare...!_

Charles knew he had to keep Shaw focussed on himself as he saw Erik sneaking up on the man from behind in his own body, only that it was filled with Erik and Erik's boundless anger.

"To unlock your power," Shaw explained, keeping Charles pinned against the wall. "To make you embrace it."

The words trickled into Erik's thoughts only slightly filtered by Charles' mind. And despite the pain and horror on his friend's face he hoped Charles would keep Shaw occupied just a little bit longer.

"This is our time."

 _He is right, he is wrong, get ready, he's strong, I can do this -_ we _can._

"Everything you did made me stronger," Charles admitted with Erik's voice. The words hit Erik like a fist in the stomach, only in the head, or somewhere in-between, he was not quite certain. "It made me the weapon I am today." _And you should not be a weapon, Erik. You're so much more._ "It's the truth." _It is. You are. Don't stoop to him. Please. Listen to me._ "I've known it all along."

The force of Charles' broadcasting made Erik dizzy. It was not only the message the words transported like diamond spearheads punching through his body, but the underlying warmth and complete acceptance of who he was. _I know you._ It was the truth Charles saw. _I do know you. I have seen it all. I have felt it all. I know you too well, my friend._

Charles felt Erik fighting back in his mind. There was no way he would not. Charles indeed knew him well, but he still hoped because there was always a tomorrow waiting. The hurt of their realisations etched itself into Erik's face. Charles didn't even try to fight it, seeing how that painted a victorious smile on Shaw's face.

As one they sprang into motion. By the time Shaw had turned towards Erik who had snatched the helmet from his head, Charles was already concentrating hard on keeping the iron molecules in his body immobile. Erik breached Shaw's mind, shutting him down as well as he could. Charles could feel the satisfaction of finally having Shaw where he was as if it was his own. But it was not, and his abilities to keep Shaw immobile would work only so long, and only if Erik did not break their contact. "Even I could only control this man for so long," he told Erik.

"This won't be long," Erik replied and an image formed in Charles head he refused immediately.

 _No - this is what I came for - No! - all those years - Erik, please - all those memories - I won't - all the pain - I can't - but I have to._

A lot of emotions played over his face, showing Erik's turmoil - hurt, understanding, betrayal, pain, hope determination, sadness, confidence.

"No! Don't do this! Erik!" Charles felt his thoughts screech into all the wrong gears, pushed forwards, forced into action by a mind at accustomed to this place, echoing through its home like ghosts.

"This is what we're going to do," Erik told Shaw, putting one hand to his temple and reaching out to Charles with the other. He lipped a coin from one of his pockets with borrowed power, hovering between him and his creator. "I'm going to count to three and I'm going to move the coin."

"No, please!" _Charles is screaming in his ears and mind, taking so much space that Shaw, the coin the whole conflict seem tiny._

One.

"Erik, please!" The desperation was almost killing Erik, but he was already too far gone to care. The coin approached Shaw's frozen figure slowly. This would be the end.

"Two."

Charles recoiled from their connection. But there was nowhere for him to go. And Erik remembered how to manipulate metal with the very same thoughts all too well. It was so easy despite the energy it took him to simply keep Shaw in place.

"Erik, no."

It was almost a whisper. The anger was gone, only the desperation remained mingling with sorrow to heavy to hold. Charles was weeping, it was not for the man standing doomed to death before him, though but the one who held his mind with an iron grip.

"Three." He watched as the coin broke through skin and bone, embedding itself in Shaw's head slowly. Erik followed it's progress intently, pushing everything else aside. There was just the moving coin and his hold on Shaw. Everything else had to move elsewhere.

The pain shot through their connection with all their memories. Desperate anger mingling with the furious satisfaction of killing Shaw, the fear of dying, the inability to move, to escape, myriads of impressions flickering through synapses neither made for the workload nor trained to take it. The onslaught was pushing everything else from him. Charles clutched at his head as Erik dumped all excess on him, drowning in the intense pain that being the head through which the coin ploughed entailed.

Erik had pushed all that from him, bent only on his final revenge. The strain of holding Shaw in place pushed Charles to his knees. And the pain searing through his head was unbearable despite being filtered through Erik's mind which didn't acknowledge it at all, just handed it on. It was only when he ran out of air, that Charles realised he must have been screaming for quite a while already.

He slumped with his hands over his ears and still Charles could her the soft click as the coin dropped onto the floor. His mind burned with the memory, with the pain, with the overload. He took a laboured breath. He exhaled. And the world titled sideways.

Erik felt as if he awoke from an extremely vivid dream to find Shaw dead at his feet. . A scream was echoing in his head and he suddenly realised that it was Charles, that it _had been_ Charles, who had suddenly fallen silent. Erik should have felt pleased with his accomplishment, but all he saw was Charles kneeling on the floor behind Shaw's body, both hands raised to his head. His face was drawn and aghast and whatever his eyes were focussed on, it was nothing inside this room.

Echoes of pain reached Erik, and as he followed their trails he realised what had happened. He was besides Charles in a heartbeat, just as the other man slowly fell over. _Charles!_ The eyes of the other snapped open again, half vacant half filled with fear. Immediately Erik tried to retract all his thoughts into his mind without letting go of Charles completely.

Charles felt the flood of Erik's thought draining from his mind taking the pain with them that should not have been his. He stopped his fall with one hand, breathing hard as if he had been running for miles. "Don't you ever do that again," he whispered hoarsely. He tried to get up, but only stumbled a step forwards.

"I won't," Erik said automatically. Traces of what he had cast at Charles while killing Shaw reverberated through his head with unsparing intensity. He crouched down beside his friend, worry written all over his face. He did not spell out what it was that he worried about most. "I didn't know I could - you could - I won't."

He saw the doubt etched into his own features, knowing how it felt on the inside too well. This was _his_ mindset, this was not like Charles at all. This was all wrong.

"Looks like this didn't work out after all," Charles said. He did not add 'my friend' in an obvious way. Then he tried to get up again.

Erik stood and held out his hand. Looking at it for a moment, the other finally took it, grabbing Shaw's helmet with the other while letting himself be pulled upright. He could feel the questions of Erik hover around him, but the other made an effort of not to intrude on his mind.

"Sorry Erik." He let go of the taller man's hand. "It's not that I don't trust you."

Erik took an involuntary step back as the connection to Charles suddenly snapped. He stared at his friend who returned the gaze with an uncompromising look on his face. The sudden emptiness quickly started to fill with the chatter of everybody else within the vicinity. Erik had to stabilise himself against the submarines bulkhead. He had not realised how much he had actually relied on Charles to keep the shields in place and the telepathy in check.

Charles stumbled past the bewildered telepath, stepping into the sunlight blinking. He felt like ages had passed an darkness should have fallen already. He looked at the mutants staring at him, and behind him. Casting a glance over his shoulder he saw Erik dragging Shaw out of the submarine. The smaller frame of Charles had some difficulty managing the dead body. He couldn't care.

The beach was littered with uprooted palms and their leaves. Dark smoke rose from both halves of the downed jet. Nearby palms that had also caught fire and small fires burned scattered on the sand. In the distance he could make out the ships of the embargo line. He felt them like dark shadows on his consciousness, moving metal in the water. _Moving..._

The others were separated into neat groups, Hand beside Raven helping Sean and Alex along. their names felt strange in his mind, wrong, as if their mutant pseudonyms bore more truth. In contrast Riptide, Azazel and Angel could still stand non their own. A strange flush of pride shot through him. Moira stood in the shadow of the plane, watching from a distance. He ignored her completely.

"Today our fighting stops!" He declared, letting his eyes wander from one group of mutants to the other. "Take off your blinders, brothers and sisters. The real enemy is out there. I feel their guns moving in the water, their metal targeting us." Raven stared at him with disbelief on her face. It took Charles a moment to realise that she was unsure if he was himself or really Erik. He couldn't care. "Go ahead," he motioned Erik. "Tell me I'm wrong."

Erik put two fingers to his temple concentrating. It was exhaustingly difficult without the voice of Charles, and exceedingly frustrating. But he managed to read the minds of enough crewers on board of the ships to confirm Charles' claim. The ships were getting ready to fire at them. He nodded towards Moira, asking her silently to see if she could at least contact the Americans.

The young woman raced off into the broken jet. But there was no response, to her cries of hello. And then a jolt went through the ships complements as they fired their cannons. But Charles was already in action. Reaching out with his hand, he stopped the missiles before they could reach them, hovering them just over the beach. Then he slowly turned his hand and with it the projectiles turned.

Erik could not read his friend's mind. But the way he acted was not quite right. He would have experted the professor to turn the missiles upwards and explode them harmlessly. But to all appearances it looked as if he was to hurl them right back towards the ships. This was not like Charles. This could not be Charles. It might have been his fault for taking over his head to kill Shaw, but this was - it was unacceptable. Charles should end up as jaded as he was.

"You said yourself, we are the better men," he appealed. There was no reaction. "This is the time to prove it." He took another step toward the younger man.

Charles turned his face to look at him. His eyes were unnaturally cold and hard. Though Erik could not reach his friend's mind, he was certain to have seen that look before. He was still racking his mind when Charles returned his attention to the ocean. It was the way he turned his head and an echo of the pain and mind sent just minutes ago, that spurred Erik into action.

"No!" Barraging into the now taller man, he grasped Charles around the waist, dragging him to the ground. He tried to pin him while reaching for the helmet. He needed to see what was going on in Charles' head, needed to confirm that this was - or more likely was _not_ \- Charles. Telepathy was a scary gift and one he hoped to lose again as fast as possible when this was over.

Charles fought back and with the stronger body of Erik, soon had the upper hand. "I don't want to hurt you. Don't make me!" The last sentence hardened Erik's suspicions. Charles would not hurt a friend if not absolutely necessary. And destroying ships would not rank on his list of necessary. He reached for the helmet again.

"Stand back!" Charles called as the other mutants approached and without batting an eye hurled them backwards through the air. Erik tried to use that distraction to at least get his fingers under the helmet, but even with one hand reaching out to stabilise the missiles, Charles held him down. But he would not give up. Not if Charles was in danger.

Charles saw his fist, Erik's fist, his fist crash into his own jaw as if somebody else moved it. His mind way roiling with conflicting ideas, ideals and impulses. He stood up shakily, feeling his mind stretch and take hold of the missiles again. He didn't want them to harm the ships, he wanted to destroy them all, he didn't. Of course he did. The humans had to die, all of them.

A cold presence pushed him back - again- into the corners of himself. A bright swathe of pain cleaved through his consciousness, blurring memory into madness. He knew he was not in power over this body which he had started to think of as his already. But it was not. Not anymore and he was too tired, to exhausted to fight back much. What was the worst that could happen?

"That's enough!" And then the fist had crashed down into Erik and that had woken him again. What _was_ the worst that could happen? The missiles raced towards the ships. The worst was Shaw winning after all. Charles wanted to curl up in one of his corners. Instead he whirled around as Moira approached him with a blazing gun. What the hell did she think she was doing? He felt the urge to send the shots right back at her, into her, kill her. But he couldn't. Bullets ricocheted off his hands clumsily as he fought to control them against Shaw.

Then Erik screamed. Charles turned, recognising the pain in his own voice as something terrible. Still fending off the bullets which suddenly stopped coming he turned to Erik who was falling. One hand pressed to the small of his back, he tumbled towards the sand and the scream never stopped. It echoed in Charles' head despite the lack of any connection to his friend.

His reaction was immediate as he stepped in to catch the fall, kneeling at Erik's head and pulling out the bullet as if he was doing it every day. Shaw's presence was raging at him, but there was no place for him next to the worry for Erik. One erratic gesture was enough to get rid of the damned helmet. Why had he ever thought of using it? And he caught Erik in his arms, feeling his presence spread in his mind again.

The bond sprang back into life as if it had been waiting for this moment, sending out tendrils that reconnected immediately when they could. Erik's presence burned through Charles' head, not burning _him_ , but blazing through his thoughts, ripping through his memories, cleaving breaches into all corners of his psyche, seeking, searching, finding, grabbing and twisting, ripping.

Shaw was dislodged from his head with a sudden snatch and Charles felt as if the sun had risen in the middle of day. He stared down at Erik. How had he known? _I know everything about you. I am sorry. I am sorry. I am sorry._ He was not sure who was thinking again but instead of the fear the serenity was back. He was back.

The missiles - falling and exploding in the sky above and behind them were just a faint drizzle through his mind. The relief flooding the ships' complements trickled through him more tangible than that, filtered through Erik. But Charles only had eyes for his friend in his body with pain spread all over his face. "I'm so sorry!" He had done this. He had to take the blame, and why not some of the pain?

He put a hand on the other man's chest, trying to tap in on the agony he knew was necessary to twist his face like that. Charles could feel the presence of Erik, was completely aware of him, but still Erik shut him out. He refused to share the thoughts that were centred around the pain in his back and all Charles could do was watch as if a wall of glass stood erected between them.

Disregarding that he had only moments ago tried to expel Erik from his mind completely - that was Shaw - the exclusion hurt. It hurt almost as bad as the inability to help his friend. "I want you by my side." Softly he tapped the mental barrier. He would plead if he had to. "We're brothers, you and I. All of us, protecting each other." Why could he feel Erik’s presence so strongly and not know what was going on in his mind? Memories of pain and perfection merged in his head."We want the same thing!"

Erik sent a laboured smile up at him. For a moment his feelings flickered over Charles' consciousness - the reasons to be here, the memories almost forgotten, the acts done and regretted and a tiny echo of 'yes, the same thing', but it was gone again before Charles hold on to it. He found himself shut out again by impervious, bright blue eyes.

"My friend." Charles almost winced at hearing his own words thrown back at him with such sorrow. It even seeped through the bond that Erik was shielding so very carefully now.

"I'm sorry, but we do not."

The breath caught in Charles' throat, relegating the outcry to pure emotion. The determination he felt in Erik manifested itself into a brittle hold over his features, making the firmly shut lips quiver. That Shaw had been a mutant himself had not shaken Erik's beliefs, he was not pleading co-existence. But here and now, he was broken, in pain and out of time. And there was a tiny spark, so small it might never amount to anything, that doubted and hoped against all hope.

And it wasn't like Charles to give up on a friend. He certainly wouldn't give up Erik. Beckoning Azazel closer with a curt gesture, he came to a decision. He had told Erik that he was not alone. It had been a promise and he would keep it.

"This is where you err." It was a whisper more thought than spoken. Charles was sure Erik heard him, shields or no shields. He brought the moment of peaceful perfection to the surface of his mind. "We can do this, my friend."

Erik groaned as Charles' tightened the grip on him while Azazel put one hand on his shoulder.

 _Don't do this - I can't do anything else - why? - because - I am me - because you are you - because I know everything about you - yes, so why - not_   
despite   
_, Erik, because._

The beach winked out of existence.

 

~*~*~*~

 

 _This won't work. Of course it will. You did this before._

It had taken time to get to one of the American ships, onshore into a hospital that was well-equipped enough to deal with a bullet in the spine. And one that had a doctor who knew what a mutant was when he saw one. And all that with Erik screaming in his head. And pain screaming in his spine where there was nothing wrong with him at all. For split seconds it helped to show how to dig up old and forgotten memories. There were many of those, but they did not lessen the pain. They simply added a new layer.

Doctor Bradley was swiftly efficient, even if his methods looked quite unsafe. He assured them that he knew exactly what he was doing It was one his own tricks. His cooperation became almost scary after he caught a glance at the number on Charles' forearm. The former telepath wished he could have browsed the thought the man projected at that moment just to know what was going on in his head.

Instead Charles held on to Erik until the medication took care of the pain and Azazel went on his next journey. While Erik was to mend they collected Emma Frost to work out what had happened and why. Her laughter had been quite exquisite. Her insights even more so. And so this could not wait, every moment gone by was a moment cementing the condition. Something neither Charles nor Erik wanted.

 _Are you sure? Of course I am. It is not pleasant. It is my fault. It is not. Could you just stop bickering; you are not making this any easier. How does it work? Just relax. Who did it?_ The crystal laughter echoed through three minds. _Are you really so naive?_ _No. Sure. Hey! Just relax and do as I say. Sure. No. Hey!_

 _Charles doesn't want to let go, doesn't want to hold against his will, doesn't want to lose, but he does. Because Erik doesn't want to hold on, doesn't let go, is lost already. But not alone. But not like this. Because he's more beautiful as himself, nothing to change, nothing to alter, so different and still the same. Don't be like me. Be by my side. You're not alone. I want -_

 _Remember the plane. Remember the pain. Remember everything. Because only the memory remains. Everything. Will fade. Don't let go. And I promised. And I broke. Does it Matter? Does it not? We are not alone._

 _Which is just the problem, as I'd like to point out. But not much longer. Relax and hold on. Remember who you are._

 _  
_

~*~*~*~

 

Charles woke up with a pain searing down from the small of his back, down through his thighs, through his calves, through his feet, right into his little toes. He tried to coil up instinctively, but that only increased the pain. At least, he tried to cheer himself up, that more than likely meant that he would keep his legs. Right now that was not really an enjoyable prospect.

His mind felt foggy with anguish. He was not sure if he should be shielding or keep Newton's cradle in motion -

Erik! The pain soaring through his body dimmed as he reached out to his friend, finding him awake, unscathed, anxious, perking up - Charles snapped back into his own mind immediately, raising all his shields. He was back. And not only back in his own body, but also with his own powers.

 _You did this to him!_

The accusation wouldn't leave his head. Y _ou wanted him to stay. You wanted him to understand and instead you did this to him._ It was not an excuse that he hadn't know he could do that. He might not even have believed it possible. But it was and he had done it.

How could he be sure he would not repeat this mistake? Despite the explanations of Emma - that it had been the pressure, that he had been so anxious, that Erik had been asleep, that it was only possible to transfer a wake mind with consent or enormous force, that it was more than unlikely that it would happen again accidentally. He did not even think on the possibility of making it happen on purpose.

Still this left the question what Erik was thinking about this. Which he couldn't know because he would keep out of other people's head now, and especially that of Erik.

 _Remember._

That would be it. He indulged in perusing the memories. He would remember; even if it would only help to fuel regret. Though, there was actually only one way to find out how much regret it would amount to. Groaning he put an arm over his head.

"The pain will abate soon," a gentle voice told him. Moira stood beside his bed, taking his tortured expression completely wrong. "We did not know how much morphine to give you and we did need to know if you'd feel your legs."

Well, Charles did feel them, very much so.

"I'm afraid you won't be walking for a while, though." Charles followed he gaze to the wheelchair in the corner of the room. That would be inconvenient, but it beat the alternative.

It took some time until the morphine took effect and even more time to get him into that wheelchair and into the living room. He was a little surprised to find not only Raven, Hank, Alex and Sean but also Angel, Riptide, Azazel and Emma Frost in it. Somehow the mutants had drawn together while he had been out. Guilt crept into his thoughts. It would have to wait. Raven bounced towards him stopping short just before tripping over the wheelchair. The elation she radiated was difficult to resist. He smiled as she hugged him awkwardly.

"We were so worried!" He human apparel flickered.

"Just be who you want," Charles said giving her hand a gentle squeeze. Uncertainty crossed her face before the blond girl rippled apart into the blue mutant. Her smile was radiant. _Best brother in the world_ , she thought before making space for the others to express their happiness. Shaw's former associates were rather reserved about it but that was okay. Charles wondered what they were doing in his house anyway.

It turned out that after Shaw's death his mutants had found themselves caught on the beach with his students while Azazel was transporting them around America and Moira had thrown a fit at her commanders and quit her job. Charles was not sure what would come from that, but her experience would be useful no matter what they decided to do next. One person was not in the room, though. It became more than obvious once the initial hubbub had died down.

"He's in the library," Raven offered.

"In a very bad mood," Frost added which was not really helpful.

Charles smiled lopsided and gave a little shrug. It was not as if putting this of would make it any better. He stopped Moira from pushing the wheelchair though. This would be difficult enough without anybody, however well-meaning, watching.

It might have been using a wheelchair, but the way to the library seemed a lot longer to Charles than normal. It also occurred to him that the thresholds in the house were not made for people relying on wheels. And, of course, that he was thinking anything in order not to think about meeting Erik. _You did that to him._

The library was a as they had left it only a few days ago. The chessboard sat on the low table, the pieces still scattered on and around it and Erik sitting in the chair, staring at it. Charles looked at Erik and saw - Erik. It was at the same time so simple and so utterly amazing that his jaw dropped.

The other had actually gotten up, as Charles rolled into the library. The expression on his face might have been concern or impatience. Charles was not sure because he didn't even dare try to feel if Erik was broadcasting anything. At least he did not look as if he was in a really bad mood. His hand was closed into a fist, as he waited for Charles to settle down beside the table.

For a while neither spoke. They just looked at each other trying to gauge the other's mood. Erik's hand closed tightly around the five small metal balls he had been moving restlessly. There were too many unspoken thoughts in the room, circling them. Finally Charles smiled, a small, almost apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry," he said in a way too contrite for somebody who had received as much suffering as he had inflicted. But he was Charles, and that was just the way he was. Erik shook his head. If he let him, he knew, Charles would take all the blame and run with it. He didn't have to search for clues in the other man's face; he knew him; he remembered everything.

"Did you know you could do that?" Erik asked instead.

Charles shook his head. "I had no idea. It's - so invasive that I am afraid of myself. Disgusted. And I am so sorry that it happened to you of all, my friend. I know how much you like the privacy of your mind."

Erik examined the privacy of his mind and found it somewhat lacking. The telepathy was only a memory, but still so vivid that he felt himself reach out for Charles automatically. He wondered what kind of self-control the other had to exert to prevent that from happening to him. He was not quite certain he approved of it either.

"Do you know why?" he finally asked, putting the question of separation on hold for the moment.

"I never before wanted so desperately for someone else to understand me," Charles confessed unable to meet Erik's eyes. "It is true that I want you by my side. But I could only see how I was going to lose you when we met Shaw."

"You knew what would happen?" Erik asked incredulous.

"I knew you wanted to kill him and I knew I couldn't let you do that," Charles replied softly. "What does that translate into for you?" He finally did look up and his eyes were full of faint anger and a desperate need to be understood.

Erik found himself unable to refuse that need. Still he shook his head slightly. "And changing everything changed nothing." He sat down opposite of Charles, pulling the chair so close that their knees almost touched. "What does that translate onto for you?"

"That we are different and have our differences," Charles answered. "But that we are still stronger together."

It was a conclusion so completely like Charles that Erik had to close his eyes for a moment. But he knew his friend and he knew he would never change in that respect. _But he should also know me_ , the thought, _and realise that neither will I?_ He felt clear blue eyes rest on him without intruding. It was hard work to do this, he understood now and appreciated the effort the telepath put into not being in his head.

Which, as Erik had to admit slightly surprised, would not have been a problem any more. Been there, done that and done much worse. Why could Charles not move on from what he did when he could? The magnitude of the crimes was equal, they had invaded the innermost privacy of the other, unasked, uninvited and unexpected and done what they thought right. And only one of them had killed in the process and consciously accepted that the other would suffer horribly because of it.

And that had not been Charles, who had almost lost his legs as well. And all that to understand. Erik did not think he did. But did that mean it had been in vain? He took Charles' fingers and tapped his temple in that tell-tale gesture with them. "It's not what you did in here, my friend, that's so important. Because, let's face it, I messed up pretty bad myself in that department."

Charles' winced sympathetically but didn't pull back his hand. "Like a kick in the stomach."

"Only higher." Seeing Charles wavering, Erik decided to take the leap of faith. "It is what you changed in _here_ , that matters." He lowered Charles hand until it came to rest over his heart.

Charles stared at his hand, trapped between Erik's fingers and chest. He heard Erik broadcasting, something he had not done when he arrived, but now he was positively throwing images at Charles. It was disconcerting, endearing, frightening. But in the end he had to give in under the pressure of grey gaze holding him prisoner.

"And you are sure you want this?"

"Read my mind."

Charles didn't repeat the question, though Erik could see the battle that was on his friend's face. The irresistible light in those blue eyes focussed on him. Y _ou will have nobody else to blame._ The bond sprang back into life as if it had only been waiting for this chance.

Erik closed his eyes and relaxed, because that was alright.


End file.
